


Dancing With Myself

by noplacespecial



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Community: bsg_pornbattle, Episode Related, Episode Tag, F/M, Het, Masturbation, Porn Battle, Romance, Voyeurism, bsg_pornbattle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-07
Updated: 2009-12-07
Packaged: 2017-10-04 06:18:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noplacespecial/pseuds/noplacespecial
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He swears, once upon a time, that he was just a normal guy - as gutter-minded as any male of his age is expected to be, but just as vanilla as the next.  (Spoilers to "Unfinished Business".)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dancing With Myself

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://community.livejournal.com/bsg_pornbattle/profile)[**bsg_pornbattle**](http://community.livejournal.com/bsg_pornbattle/); prompt was 'thinking of Starbuck masturbation'. Over the comment limit, as per usual.

**Disclaimer:** Hot Dog, Starbuck, Kat, and any other characters mentioned are the property of the Sci-Fi (SyFy) Network, Ron Moore, and David Eick Productions. No copyright infringement is intended.

~*~

He swears, once upon a time, that he was just a normal guy - as gutter-minded as any male of his age is expected to be, but just as vanilla as the next. Maybe it's the circumstances, or maybe this war has really fucked them all up for good, because he can't ever remember being quite so turned on by someone thoroughly kicking his ass.

He's got a split lip, a gash on his head, and more bruises than he can count; he doesn't even want to think about what his sickly-pale skin is going to look like tomorrow. Kat scurries behind him with a towel and a first aid kit, and in the bunkroom he lets her clean him off and bandage him up. He's glad that his hands are still wrapped, because had he full use of them he's pretty sure he'd do something stupid.

His entire body is thrumming, buzzing, too much energy in too little space. He's half hard already (which Kat either hasn't noticed or is politely ignoring), and every time he lets his eyes drift closed for even a minute he remembers Starbuck across the ring from him. She's hard to ignore even on regular days, but tonight she's downright magnetic. The fact that she's never quite so alive as when she's pummeling something should (and does) frighten him slightly, but he can't deny the way it churns deep in his gut.

"You gonna be okay?" Kat asks, her voice tinged with genuine concern. Brendan forces a smile.

"I'll be fine," he promises. She quirks an eyebrow and gives him a look that says she doesn't quite believe him, but he doubts that she suspects the true reason for his discomfort.

"Sure?" she pushes, and _frak_, her hand slides down the center of his chest. Brendan huffs out a breath and backs away slowly. It's not like they haven't done this before - they're friends, they trust each other, and to be honest there aren't all that many options left to begin with. He knows that Kat doesn't expect anything from him, isn't ready to give him anything in return anyway, but still this feels wrong. He doesn't love her, but he cares enough not to fuck her while thinking about someone else - about Starbuck, of all people.

"Yeah. I'm sure." She looks slightly disappointed, but Brendan is placated by the fact that she probably just thinks he's too sore to enjoy himself, and he breathes a sigh of relief when she squeezes his shoulder and leaves him alone in the empty rack.

He pulls the curtains closed just to be sure, and slowly undoes the wrapping from his hands. Once free he flexes them, stretches them, uses them to pull his tanks over his head. His flesh is still tender to the touch, so he just glides his fingers up and down his chest in light, glancing strokes. He pauses at his nipples, twists one then the other. His dick begins to stir. He slips a hand inside his shorts and plays with himself for a few moments, just cupping his balls and letting them warm in his hand, before finally shutting his eyes and replaying the fight behind his lids.

Kara, Starbuck, God, bouncing on her toes. Eyes flashing. Wide mouth grinning. Sheen of sweat. Tongue sliding across her teeth. Warm bare flesh on him, above him. Feral, fierce, intoxicating.

Brendan grasps himself firmly and begins pumping up and down. He's fully hard in an instant, so embarrassingly close to coming already that it's borderline painful. But what else did he expect, fantasizing about Kara Thrace?

The thing is, he knows she gets off on it. Anytime she gets in a fight, be it with him or Tigh or the CAG...afterward she's always wound-up, always squirming in her seat and biting her lip and he's known her way too long not to be able to recognize those signs. He wonders if anyone else sees it. He wonders if tonight's dance got her tingling and wet.

Frak.

He bites back a groan, not even sure anymore if the room is still empty - blood is rushing in his ears and his concentration is on other matters at the moment. He's pretty sure a Cylon could march right in here and tap him on the shoulder and he wouldn't even notice. He speeds up his movements as he licks the sweat from his upper lip. He savors the tang of salt and imagines that he's licked it from between her breasts. Gods, she has nice tits. And she would absolutely want to be on top. Well, at least all that jumping around earlier has given him a proper visual, because he's got no trouble picturing her atop him, breasts bouncing as she rides him.

Frak, frak, _frak_.

He's close, _so_ close, movements jerky and erratic in desperation when the hatch slams open. It shocks his eyes wide, his body still a quivering mess of hormones, and then he hears it. Hears _her_. She's moaning and panting and when he peeks out between the slit in his curtains, he sees her attached to Anders, her shirt already off and both of their hands below each others' waistbands.

Shit, she really _does_ have fantastic tits.

Starbuck has never exactly discrete, with Sam or with anyone else, but there's something different about the way she's scrabbling her way up his body now; something needy and frantic. He can't say he knows exactly what's going on, but with the way she and Apollo were eying each other all night...yeah, he's got some idea. Not that it makes it any less of a glorious sight to behold.

It's clear that Kara and Sam are oblivious to the world around them, so Brendan slides his hands back inside his pants and resumes his furious pace. Kara's moans and groans are exactly the soundtrack he needs to have him coating the inside of his sweatpants in under a minute. He sucks in a breath as his heart thuds in his ears, easing into a less strenuous pace. It's going to be a long time before he tries out _that_ particular fantasy again - it damn near killed him. But he can't sneaking one last peek through the curtains, just to be sure.

Sam is sprawled on his back, half-on and half-off the mattress of Starbuck's bunk. He can't quite see her tits from this direction, but he can see her ass, which is just as nice. And yeah, she's totally on top.

Brendan smirks as he pulls the curtains shut.


End file.
